


Spring always follows

by Clarissa_DN38416



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Deaths, F/M, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-05-14 20:32:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19280653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clarissa_DN38416/pseuds/Clarissa_DN38416
Summary: Sansa stood by the front ruins of what was left of Winterfell looking at what was once her childhood home, not much was left intact after the war against the others. Waiting for her guests to arrive.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to say a huge thank you to Quoyan_XI for helping me get back into the rhythm of writing again, I also remember you being one of the first to ask me to expand on my drabble so here it is. I hope you and everyone enjoy this.

([x](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17752487/chapters/44822920#workskin)) _link to drabble_

 

 

Sansa stood waiting by the front ruins of what was left of Winterfell, it had only been roughly a month since she had returned from Harrenhal and looking at what was once her childhood home not much was left intact.

One tower and the great dining hall along with some of the base foundation was all that remained. All the time spent after the war was finding anyone still left alive and finding decent enough soil to regrow lost crops for food, so any chance of rebuilding structures and what was lost was on the backburner when money and funds - as it was still currently - the last thing on anyone's minds.

 

 

The battle with the others had gone on long, consuming many months, and took the lives of countless more. It seemed like there was no end to the tireless battle just like winter itself with its never ending darkness, people often wondered if they'd ever live to see the sun again.

No land was left untouched, or unaffected. Those who tried hiding in their castles and keeps joined the fight whether they wished to or not. By the time a letter from her cousin Robin arrived asking for help against the unstoppable invading force, there was nothing anyone could do for those trapped in the Eyrie as they were too busy trying to stay alive themselves.

When Jon had returned with the Targaryen queen and with all her forces accompanied by her ex-husband and the man Sansa knew used to be the master of whisperers.

Plans for war went underway quickly and the idea of Winterfell being the stronghold was agreed upon. When Sansa learned of where Jon wanted to hide all the people unable to help fight in the crypts, Sansa let her opinion known that it was a foolish endeavour against an foe that raises the dead.

So preparations began for those who wished to follow her to Moat Cailin, to take only the bear essentials as they left within a fortnight.Those who couldn't ride horseback were in wagons and it didn't surprise Sansa one bit when a few of Daenerys advisors tagged along, Tyrion and Varys among them.

It was hard saying goodbye to Arya and Jon both of whom chose to stay and fight, and she would've felt more alone if Brienne hadn't promised to stay by her side.

 

 

It had taken weeks to reach their destination with the weather getting harsher and the amount of times people needed to stop to rest, and before Sansa could dismount her horse a scroll from her brother was already there in waiting, telling her to keep moving. That the stronghold wasn't going to last much longer and the further south she-they went the better chance they'd have of surviving.

"And we're to trust his word alone?" It felt like Varys' tone was condescending when she read it aloud.

"Your queen signed it too," Sansa replied as she held the letter out.

"Don't you mean _our_ queen?" One of his eyebrows rose as he looked up at her from where he stood, as she still sat upon her horse.

"Of course, our queen."

Varys took the letter not believing it until he saw that Daenerys signature was beside Jon's for himself. As he and Tyrion fought over what their best course of action should be Sansa had already taken charge.

"Okay, listen up everyone. We only have enough food for a months-worth of travel, Winterfell has almost fallen." Sansa paused so people wouldn't hear the catch in her throat, she swallowed down her sorrow, her worry and stood straighter as she continued, "We'll head to the Riverlands."

"How do we know that'll be safe?"

"How will we make it?" Someone panicked, and before it could escalate Sansa said what she could to momentarily calm them.

"The Tully's are our allies and if we move quickly I'm sure we'll make it before any of us starve." Sansa turned to Varys after a bout of dizziness which he must have noticed, for he hadn't taken his eyes off her, "And if any of you don't like the plan, you're more than welcome to stay here at the inn."

 

 

Sansa was worried, days were getting shorter and Brienne and Podrick rode in front and behind her creating a small barrier around her for protection. Every time a bout of coughing overtook her, Sansa couldn't shake the feeling that eyes were watching her making her feel paranoid.

The only times they stopped for breaks was when they switched riders and whenever people needed to relieve themselves, she wanted to make sure there was more space between them and the army that was sure to head their way soon as possible.

 

The closer they got the quieter everyone became, they all knew the threat hanging over their heads and everyone was so much withdrawn into themselves that if they heard crying, they left them to cry.

 

 

As Sansa was escorted towards her uncle, they had arrived to more people arming up and she was taken aback by the Kingslayer in his presence. Edmure dismissed him before either could address the other, and just by his presence alone Sansa was guarded. She didn't miss how Brienne's eyes followed him out but she was thankful she remained silent.

"He is our prisoner." Edmure said, not trusting enough to reveal that he was really an ally.

"Then why isn't he in chains?" It was more a statement but Sansa worded it as a question. Even Tyrion, Missandei and Varys had the good grace to stay out of it until the topic changed to the real threat they were going to face.

 

 

It had been days since Edmure departed with his army, the amount of them leaving looked larger than the number of soldiers he provided and surprisingly Tyrion and Missandei followed them.

Even though Sansa gave her blessing, she felt most alone when Brienne and Podrick had gone with them. Her only real company nowadays was her handmaiden and even that didn't bring her much comfort in the way of where her thoughts lay, her prayers and thoughts were still with her family that stayed behind. Hoping, praying and wishing Bran, Arya and Jon to still be safe and alive.

If it wasn't for her handmaiden posing as a server and overhearing the plans made in meetings conducted behind her back, Sansa never would've learned that her uncle had aligned himself with the Kingslayer and the Greyjoy fleet that had were known Targaryen supporters.

They kept the truth of what they were planning a secret, that they even made it so Ilfred couldn't decipher their coded words.

The few who stayed behind along with Sansa weren't left unprotected, with soldiers sworn to protect those who'd travelled with them but Sansa couldn't shake the feeling she wasn't safe. She knew the long night was coming them and before it reached her, Sansa wanted to be far from here.

She had Ilfred prepare for another journey even though she wasn't happy about it and organised a meeting with the families to see if they would go with her.

 

On the morning of the day she planned to leave they were almost stopped when Varys and few guards blocked their path. "Where are you going my lady?"

Sansa cleared the frog in her throat before saying the first thing that came to mind, "Harrenhal."

Varys cocked his head, whether in thought or confusion Sansa couldn't make out but didn't particularly care either way. "I assure you we're perfectly safe here."

"If you truly believe that then there's no harm in letting me leave," Sansa pointed out, "Of course you are all welcome to come along."

"Have you heard any news?"

"No."

"How long until winter reaches us?" Varys asked instead.

"Days."

 

 

Her assumption of it being days was wrong, the rain had stopped just in time for the first lot of snowfall and with it brought darkness hours before anyone could've anticipated.

They really thought they would be able to make it long before the weather caught up to them but it was the other way round. It was the first time Sansa saw anything close to resembling fear on Varys' face as he purposely rode beside her.

With their torches lit, they still could barely see but no one slowed down. Even the horses got spooked when a horrible screeching sound pierced the air as well as what sounded like something - a lot of somethings - in the darkness chasing them.

Everyone rushed to make their horses move faster, wagons straining with the extra force. It was the worst time to have another coughing fit but Sansa pushed through the pain of it and startled along with her horse when lightening cracked open the night sky, with it, she was able to see they were a few yards away from Harrenhal and pushed faster.

 

"This way!" One of their guards yelled which sounded like a whisper over the wind.

They all followed the mans torch and Ilfred screamed from her place in one of the front wagons when the torch blew out taking with it the man.

His cry of terror was all they heard as they continued on without him, Sansa never knew the mans name and made a mental note to learn it the first chance she had.

 

They must've reached the castle when soldiers were directing horses to the correct area and when they tried ushering Sansa through, she jumped down from her horse instead to make sure everyone else made it through too. Varys looked at her surprised but continued on regardless.

When the light from her torch showed what had been chasing them Sansa had a moment of panic and regretted staying but seeing the children that had jumped down to make a run for it changed her mind even faster as she rushed over to see some of them struggling.

The winds got stronger and the weather picked up bringing a crisper, sharper bite to the air. Sansa ran to the small group of children no older than ten if they were lucky and helped the one that had fallen over.

His little hand clutched her free hand in a desperate grip and they both screamed out when they each felt something trying to grab onto them to pull them back. They kept their pace and tried to run faster than they already were towards the men beckoning on.

Just as another thing tugged on the back of Sansa's coat it lost its grip when she passed the foundations of Harrenhal. She turned shocked to see it was almost like an invisible barrier was blocking them from entering.

The unknown feeling she had that had been drawing her to this place made more sense to her now, as she saw horrible mangled bodies running at the barrier to no affect, one even ran at it with such force that the body broke apart with the impact.

 

 

During the first few weeks of their stay Sansa and Varys sent off ravens to all their allies, letting them know it was safe to come to Harrenhal. She even wrote one personally to Robin, hoping it would reach him after hearing how he had been asking for help.

When they had first arrived that first day, it came as a surprise to many that people had been there working, working on rebuilding it to its once former glory and staff inside like they were expecting their Lord to show up any minute.

It wasn't a pleasant conversation to have but it was one that needed to be done and Sansa reluctantly told them why he wasn't going to show up. One of the main staff tried denying it, saying they were still getting provisions and funds but ultimately it ended with a few in tears and the rest of them accepting what had already come to pass.

 

It was surprising that almost immediately they all fell under Sansa's leadership, going out of their way to make her feel extra welcomed and comfortable.

It started off small, almost unnoticeable but whenever Varys would make plans or send off ravens someone would come to Sansa to _inform_ her of what he was up to, and turn to her like seeking permission if they should go ahead with what he had asked of them.

 

 

As Sansa made her way into the dining hall she felt weak after more coughing and tucked her handkerchief in the long sleeve of her dress, hiding the small speckles of blood from Ilfred, with one hand on her stomach she slowed her pace when she came to the staircase.

"My lady?"

Sansa turned to see her newest ally and self-appointed personal guard looking at her concerned as he followed her down. They were almost at the entrance when she remembered to reply, "I'm fine Ser Brune, I just ---"

He managed to grab Sansa before she hit the floor, and when Sansa fainted it got the attention of almost everyone. Varys was trying to push his way towards them, to see what was wrong but Brune carried Sansa away back to her personal chambers before he or anyone else could get near her.

 

Ilfred hovered anxiously by the chamber door as Brune placed Sansa on her bed, he saw a piece of white sticking out of her sleeve, it contrasting heavily against her dark attire.

"How long has she been sick?"

Ilfred was shook but answered as best she could regardless, "She's been suffering bouts of coughing for some time but --"

"How long? When did you first notice," Brune examined the blood and looked through drawers and pots to try and find more answers.

"Before we left Winterfell."

"Any set routines? Anything she might have been doing to ail it?" Brune saw the confusion and explained simpler, "Help cover it up."

"Oh! Her night teas, Lady Stark would get me to fetch her hot tea before retiring to bed."

"Show me."

 

 

Varys moved to his private chamber down the opposite hall from Sansa, he was sitting at his desk where he'd headed straight for his scrolls as he waited for news from his birds.

Two sharp knocks at his door and he gave consent for entry, taking the note from his little hand and read how Sansa had been worse than presumed, and was further along than he had thought.

With a smile he burnt the evidence in the flame of his candle sitting on the edge of his desk, taking a sip of his water as he watched. As he placed his tumbler back on the desk he almost missed the presence of the girl standing in his room. "What have you got for me?" He asked as he reached for his parchment.

The child had fast reflexes, faster than his, and he almost missed the dagger digging into his own throat. His arms felt heavy and he had trouble lifting them to get the weapon away from his throat.

"Would you Lord Varys, would you have been punished if _he_ learnt how you tried to poison his half-sister? Or would he have fallen in line with _your_ queen and you'd have been rewarded for working to unite the seven kingdoms again?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Varys noted a fuzzy taste at the back of his throat which no amount of effort he could shake off, but the "he" that was spoke of, Varys knew was in reference to Jon Snow.

"Of course you don't." The girl remarked offhandedly, "I wonder what songs your birds would sing if you hadn't silenced them forever?"

Varys tried struggling but the girl, only half his size was able to keep him locked in place, "Take comfort in the fact you stayed loyal to the Targaryen girl. Your plan almost succeeded."

 

"Who are you?" Varys asked and felt his limbs getting heavier as well as his tongue, making it harder to form words.

"I am no one."

"Who sent you?"

_"A friend."_

"Why?"

"Only death can pay for life, and a man must give a name."

 

 _"Why me?"_ The question Varys never got to finish asking lay on the tip of his tongue as the dagger sliced through his neck, splitting him open.

Varys blood oozed down his front as he didn't even have the strength to fight. The girl peeled her face away to reveal someone else he'd never seen before and as his eyes grew heavy, he saw the man take the tumbler from where he had unwittingly drunk the poison that left him numb.

He was left there to die alone with no witnesses, with no trial for any of his crimes and he knew in his last moments who had given them his name.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I remember why all my "canon" based fics were all one-shots! This was harder to finish than originally thought! hahaha

 

 

 

The dead were still being tallied up and before each of their bodies were burned to ash, their names were added to the ever growing list of the dead. Being back at her childhood home, or what was left of it, it was the first time Ser Brune seemed more relaxed about leaving Sansa's presence.

During the long journey to Winterfell, he barely left her side and even took charge of her carriage, to make sure no one could have a chance to hurt her or get close enough to do so. Every inn they stopped at, he would guard her room no questions asked.

 

 

The first few weeks after Sansa fainted it was touch-and-go with her health and Ilfred was worried she wouldn't make it but the maester worked tirelessly around the clock. Brune kept a close eye on whoever entered Sansa's chambers, only trusting Ilfred to ever be alone with her.

Lothor, with the help of two other men were able to take Varys' body outside to be burned and his chambers cleaned out. His _birds_ or the children as they really were, were easily found with the staff having already being known to each other. They were given their freedom with the choice to leave at anytime if they so wished, with most of them accepting the offer, thinking it to be a 'once only deal' or if they wanted to stay they could as long as they pledged allegiance to house Stark.

 

When Sansa finally had the strength to open her eyes she was incredibly weak and could only seem to keep liquids down, anything more solid and it would end up back in the chamber pot rather quickly. Water and broth was all she could manage for the time being, and all of it was checked first to make sure no more poison passed her lips.

 

Even though Missandei never arrived with Sansa others did, who were loyal to Daenerys, that made the journey with Sansa and the northerner's.

Lothor didn't know which of them were as loyal as Varys had been and so he tried seeing who seemed likely to follow the same path but so far his was unsuccessful. There was a large number and woman, children and the elderly with fewer men, the staff were friendly to them all but that didn't stop them all from being cautious.

 

 

In what felt like weeks for Sansa of being bedridden, sleeping most of the time or whenever she had small bouts of wakefulness it was filled with pain and consuming disgusting stuff that was designed to rid her body of the poison.

She was getting sick of being sick and being confined to her bed and her rooms. So after much complaints and maybe with a few puppy dog eyes sent their way, her friends finally caved in and she was on her first trip out of her chambers with her hands held tightly to Brune's forearm for stability.

 

They slowed walked around the halls not wandering too far, a few people wished her well and as they neared one of the halls Sansa spotted a familiar face.

Lord Royce and a few more familiar faces were gathered by a fire all sipping hot drinks, the steam rising in all their faces from their hot contents.

They all looked gloomy, all of them injured including Yohn Royce how had one of his legs in a splint and as Sansa made her way closer she looked in all directions when she didn't spot her cousin right away. She didn't dare let go of Brune's arm but was the first to speak when they started to notice her, "Lord Royce, where is Lord Arryn?"

The door leading to the bed chamber was open, with the bed clearly empty she felt despondent.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you Lady Sansa, he didn't make the journey. His ... his injuries were too severe."

"How ... I ... Surely it's not possible. I only sent that letter a few weeks ago." Sansa was clearly confused as she struggled to come to rips with the truth, even though a part of her didn't want to mourn for more of her family.

"It took us weeks to get here, your letter was received months ago." Yohn replied.

"Lady Stark?" Lothor spoke up, his silent question hanging in the air and Sansa gave him a nod of agreement, thinking it best to return to her chambers. She wasn't at full health and now she had the grief to add to the added pressure of what was to come of The Vale.

 

 

As Sansa waited for her guests to arrive only Lady Brienne, battle worn and tired and on the brink of tears stood behind herself with Lyanna Mormont accompanying her. They were the only two houses of the north still intact, even though it felt more accurately that they were hanging on by a thread.

Somehow Tyrion had managed to survive the war but not without injury. He being one of the few still standing down south of what used to be the capitol, he had refused to leave which worked out well in the long run.

Giving help to Edmure and Roslin who were still tallying up their dead and find out the true extent of the damage. Sansa would’ve thought Tyrion a liar after reading his letters if it wasn’t for Briennne corroborating his kind of fantastical tale.

 

 

Tyrion and Brienne had accompanied the Kingslayer and what was left of the Tully army as they sieged King's landing, as the first fall of snow came, night soon followed. They weren't alone as some of the unsullied and the Greyjoy fleets sailed.

It was a long and tireless effort and by the time the walls of King's landing were breached winter had already come to the capitol, with the real threat of starvation being their biggest ally thus far.

Only it wasn't long before everyone fought on the same side against their bigger threat, and through that distraction a small group had be ordered to capture Tyrion, for him to take before his sister.

Jaime had been knocked off his feet by a wight, he barely had a grip on his sword as he tried swinging it upwards against his opponent, Brienne caught sight of his struggle in her peripheral and swung around in time to shatter it apart with Oathkeeper.

The only other person to notice what else was happening was Podrick, unfortunately where once he was able to save Tyrion at the battle of Blackwater, he was now unsuccessful and this time, and with a sword through his gut sticking right out from under his breastplate, he fell to the ground trying desperately to hold himself together as he watched on helplessly as they dragged Tyrion away.

 

With the fight continuing no one was given much of a chance to mourn, that still didn't stop Brienne and Jaime working together to pull Podrick away from the fighting in the streets into the first building they found. Podrick laughed, coughing up some blood as he did.

"Easy, easy." Brienne said, with a catch in her voice as she tried helplessly to calm him.

The blood bubbled and then oozed down Podrick's chin as he coughed some more when the pain worsened, he thought it was fitting somehow to die in a brothel and used what little strength he had remaining to explain what he saw when Jaime asked where Tyrion was and stopped him from going back outside alone in a half-arsed attempt to find him.

His anger returned but Brienne took a hold of his face to get his attention, "This is exactly what Cersei wants. She wants you angry, to go in with no plan. Now stop your whining and help me think of something."

She released him and bent down to close Podrick's eyes, and when she felt calm enough to stand again Jaime had already started talking. "The tunnels would be our safest bet, if we want some element of surprise we'll need fewer numbers. Maybe just a handful of us," He thought aloud.

"That's a start."

 

 

Making their way through the hidden passages and into the castle, it almost felt like it was too easy, both Brienne and Jaime seemed like they shared the same thought when they were ambushed on all sides. It was pointless to put up much of a fight when they were going to be escorted exactly where they wanted to go.

 

As they stepped into the throne room the sounds of the fighting outside seemed to be getting louder and closer. Cersei was stood in front of the throne choosing not to sit for this with Qyburn and the Mountain standing either side of her, she looked pleased with all her prisoners and tried not to show just how much she was even more so when she saw Jaime enter last.

They weren't in chains but their swords were take from them.

"Brother, you have returned to me."

"Not by choice," Jaime pointed out and saw Cersei flinch as he hit her with the ugly truth that he wasn't there to return to her side but was back to put an end to them once and for all. The truth about her pregnancy unravelled before his eyes when he saw her still-flat stomach. The last lie to fall from her tongue, and it felt like the last straw.

 

Everyone in the throne room started to look nervously at the large double doors when they heard the last barrier between them and the outside fight, fell.

The wights had finally breached the Keep and many of the guards looked worried. Cersei refused to show her fear, trusting her men to keep her safe, "Qyburn, fetch Ser Ilyn Payne for me."

"We're here to help," Brienne tried reasoning with Cersei, also trying to break the tension rising in the room.

"No, you're here to try and take everything from me. And let me say, you have failed." Cersei looked like she wanted to murder Brienne when she saw how Jaime tried blocking her view of the taller woman by stepping in front of her.

 

When Qyburn returned Cersei's smile returned, "Bring him in, Ser Ilyn."

He came in view with one hand pushing at Tyrion's collar, blood had soaked through all his clothes making his shirt look black. His complexation was pale and more blood was caked around his mouth, he stumbled with every step like every movement was physical torture.

"Tyrion!"

With Jaime's outraged cry, Brienne's hand caught in Jaime's armour, stopping him from running towards them. "What did you do to him!" Jaime yelled at Cersei, demanding to know what had happened.

"His smart mouth got him in trouble for the last time. Ser Ilyn took great enjoyment removing it for him."

 

Jaime felt sick hearing how they cut out his tongue, Brienne was barely holding him back and that's when bodies smacked into the doors leading to the throne room.

In her panic, Cersei ordered the mountain to hold them off ordering him to hold the door and when he was far enough away Jaime pulled Widow's Wail from its sheath smacking the guard in the back of his head with his other hand, knocking the man to the ground and rendering him unconscious.

Ilyn Payne was his first target and with the element of surprise he struck the man down, aiming for neck and shoulder, leaving him to die on the steps leading up to the throne and didn't both about retrieving his sword.

Some of the wights got lucky and broke through a section of the door, their efforts to kill and maim Ser Gregor were useless and some managed to clamour over him attacking anyone they could. The guards meant to protect their queen were now too worried about their own lives and Brienne had her sword again and did what she could to help while Tyrion crawled out of the way knowing he would be useless to them in his current state.

 

Jaime smashing Qyburn's jaw caught Gregor's attention, he was torn between following Cersei's current order and the order to always protect her. His hold on the door slackened and many of the wights were able to pass him attacking everyone.

Those with a sword tried forming a barrier while some who were too afraid tried to escape the army of the dead. Before Cersei could open her mouth to speak - Jaime had charged right for her wrapping his hands around her throat knocking them both to the floor where his golden hand had pressed down harder.

 

Tyrion and Brienne watched on shocked and horrified. Time seemed to go by so fast, like minutes would happen in the blink of an eye but seemed to also slow down. Neither would forget what they saw and both would remember until the day they died.

 

The once golden hand ignited, angry flames licked at his arm scorching cloth and flesh. Jaime's roar of anger rose higher than Cersei's chocked screams.

His hold around her neck tightened, the area around her throat and mouth basically turned black as his flaming hand made her feel like her whole body was burning alive. Her face went red as she lost all air supply and slowly turned darker then finally started to crumble to ash.

Tyrion and Brienne had been shocked at the anger radiating off him, Jaime looked crazed as he knelt in front of the iron throne.

It outweighed any shock others had when every sword in everyone's hands caught fire, including the one still imbedded in Ilyn and the one in Brienne's outstretched hand.

They didn't notice Gregor fighting his way towards them but either way it was like Jaime either knew and didn't care regardless.

“Take the tunnels, get out of here now. Find as many people as you can and go!” He had yelled at them both. The flames rose up his arm higher as it lay down by his side, and he pushed Brienne with his left hand that was red and blistered to get her moving, "Now!"

 

 

Jaime didn't have a lot of time left and held off just long enough for them to leave, no wight came near him and when the mountain drew closer he knew his time was up.

His last thoughts were of his baby brother, and knew Tyrion would survive his wounds just as he did at the battle of Blackwater and of the wrench. The strongest person he knew, and that she would be strong enough to move on. His one regret that he would never live to see the smile on Brienne's face when her first child was born.

In some strange way it was fitting that he was the one to finish the job that the mad king started, dying in the capitol with his sister and destroying what he had once protected.

 

 

Women, children and even men who had been trying to hide, followed Tyrion and Brienne back through the tunnels, out to the ships docked on the shore. Other people had the same idea and they accompanied Greyjoy, Tully, Unsullied and Lannister loyalists alike.

Just as they pulled up the anchor they turned at the sound of buildings igniting. Green flames from the wildfire from underneath the capital decimated everything living and dead.

It had started from where Jaime had been, and quickly spread outwards taking all of King's landing with him until it was nothing but a pile of rubble.

Many people grieved for what they lost, for who they lost, for their homes they had lost but only two people grieved for the Kingslayer.

 

 

They didn’t know at the time, that further north Lyanna had witnessed Jon, Daenerys and Arya as they had taken on the Night King and his men, that by Jaime taking out most of the undead army it had given the three of them just enough time to use it as the distraction they so desperately needed.

It wasn't known and would never be confirmed that the exact moment Jaime's golden hand ignited in flames, it was at the same moment that Melisandre used the last boost of her power to ignite the weapons for everyone who fought for the living.

The witch didn't live to see her help in their victory, not even making it through the night. The touch of a white walker was all it took, Davos never got to seek revenge for what she did to his king, Stannis and his sweet daughter Shireen but by protecting Gendry and taking the strike meant for him, felt like some of the weight he had been carrying around with him, lifted.

Davos vowed before he blacked out that if he ever woke again, that he would finally return home to his family.

 

Bran had been waiting for the Night King to appear to draw him out at the Godswood, the army paused momentarily when everyone's weapons lit up but it didn't take long for the fighting to commence.

Many more perished the longer they fought and just as the night sky lit up green, Bran knew it was finally time. He was surrounded and protected by Arya, Jon, Jorah and Daenerys all of whom fought any that came close.

The Night King emerged from the darkness, stepped up right in front of Bran, both starred at each other like they both knew what was about to happen.

 

Bran reached into the Night King’s chest and pulled out the dagger that had created him into a monster so long ago. As he held it in his hands he felt the tip of the ice spear slice into his side, it was so cold that for a moment Bran didn't realise it had already occurred.

 

It took a few minutes for it to register with everyone that they weren't fighting anyone anymore, as the corpse-like bodies fell and crumbled so did Jon and a few yards away so did Beric. Dany and Arya were crying over the man they had both loved while Bran’s eyes were getting glazed, making seeing harder.

He didn't fear death and saw just as the real Jon Snow turned back into the man he used to be thousands of years ago right before he too closed his eyes for the final time.

 

With no throne to claim and no land left that hadn’t been destroyed, Daenerys had chosen to go back to the last place that had felt like home to her, and along the way bury her friends in the place they were born.

After that night it was like Arya disappeared without a trace and the only indication that she was safe and left of her own freewill, was a few hours later Gendry also went missing.

 

 

Tyrion was waiting to hear back from Sansa with the fate of Westeros now laying in the hands of those that held the biggest card, money.

It always came back to money and by the time Cersei claimed the crown for herself she plummeted the kingdom into even worse debt than when her husband sat on the throne.

With those returning to their homes seeing what they lost and who they lost. What needed to be done to restart and rebuild what was lost, only to realise the Iron Bank was coming to collect what they were owed whether they could afford to pay it back or not.

Since all the correspondence was between the bank and Sansa herself, they were scheduled to arrive at Winterfell soon.

 

 

The carriage stopped in front of them and a tall thin man sporting a scowl exited first, Sansa curtsied even though the man barely acknowledged her and walked around what was left of the grounds.

Sansa had diligently followed her guest with Brienne following behind with both swords strapped to her hips she kept both her hands on each of the hilts, Oathkeeper and Widow's Wail reunited again.

No one asked and she never told anyone why she had two swords. It felt wrong leaving its sister sword and before she fled from the throne room Brienne retrieved it before rushing after Tyrion.

 

Sansa tried engaging her guest in conversation but every time he scoffed under his breath and scribbled down notes in his ledger the whole time.

That night they held a meagre feast for the Iron Bank’s representative, Tycho ate sparingly and mostly sipped at his wine. Sansa was on her last nerve with the guy, who wasn’t giving her anything and refused to speak to her about whether or not they’d help at all.

Her nerves were shattered and as she looked around the room at all their faces, she saw she wasn't the only one that feared they were going to lose their homes.

 

The dining hall, and a couple of towers had been all that was left of Winterfell and every room they had was used to house anyone still standing, everyone doubled up but no one put up a fuss.

Sansa was one of the only ones lucky enough to still have her own room, she was still not comfortable sleeping around other people, even those she trusted with her life but was pleased that they didn't take offense.

 

Lyanna struck up a conversation with Tycho which kept him occupied giving Sansa the perfect excuse to escape the hall and retire back to her chamber.

Brienne was going to get up and follow until she saw Lothor return to the hall in time to follow Sansa out, which allowed for her to relax and eat at her leisure.

 

"Where have you been today?"

"Here my Lady."

"I could've done with your company today," Sansa made sure she didn't sound like she was telling him off but he played up to it anyway.

"Sorry to hear that."

"I could've done with another mans perspective actually."

"How so?" He asked.

"There was minimal eye contact and a lot of huffing."

"He sounds shy, and annoyed," Lothor smiled when he got Sansa to laugh, which she tried to muffle in her hand.

 

When they arrived at her door she paused with a hand on his arm, "Thank you Ser, and please take the rest of the night off."

He brushed off the thank you like it was nothing but gave a shrug to show it was appreciated, "I'll be at my post like always my lady," and stood to the side keeping an eye on her chamber doors even long after she had passed through.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With all the questions asking where Petyr is, I thought I'd explain a little about my last chapter. It was more of a way for me to write more of how I wanted to see the show end (so much from season 5 to the end of season 8 I have many problems with)
> 
> Jaime was one of my favourite characters and I wanted to share how I thought this would've been one of many different possibilities that could've been a better ending for him. I always saw him dying by the end and I always preferred the theory of him being the lightbringer. 
> 
> The two theories I loved the most was of his hand igniting as he sacrificed his sister, and the second being that he would destroy King's landing with the wildfire he originally stopped and becoming the metaphorical lightbringer. So I wanted to morph both theories into one, leaving it up to the reader to chose why his hand lit up. 
> 
> I love that chapter and it was a way for me to get it off my chest. With that being said, I know who you all want to see, so enjoy

 

 

 

Harrenhal was a massive place and as more and more people gathered it started to feel more like it was a safe haven for those to recover, with most of them dying, before leaving to go fight again.

Even as Sansa used most of her time to help wherever she could, even though she felt completely helpless she went on like nothing was amiss. With Winter in fall swing, everyone was starting to feel it and with all the fires going in all the rooms, it didn't feel like it was enough to get rid of the chill they could still feel down to their bones.

The ruined castle that had been in preparation for repairs so it only gave them just enough shelter, a roof over their heads as they sat in the castle surrounded by the others like they were sitting ducks. If the weather didn't get them, then there was an army of the undead waiting to finish them off.

Sansa had no idea how they didn't run out of supplies but was grateful for small mercies as they continued to make it through each day.

 

 

After awhile everything started to feel like routine, wake up count the number of people - morning meal - see who needs the most medical attention from the only maester there - midday meal - reassure and comfort everyone - evening meal - seek solitude in bed chamber - sleep then repeat.

 

 

Sansa had a scroll on her desk one she kept separate from the rest, to keep track of the days and how long they had all been there. One evening as she went to mark down the day she heard the squeak of the old hinges of her door, she didn't bother to turn around thinking nothing of the noise, as she was accompanied by Ilfred most evenings as she left a mark on the paper before heading through the side door on her right leading to her bed chamber.

Sansa removed her heavy winter coat and hung it on the hook by the side of her bed and begun unlacing her dress as she prepared for bed.

"I'm feeling tired tonight, Ilfred. So I think I might turn in early, feel free to have the tea. I'm not really that thirsty to be honest." Sansa spoke through the open door when she heard movement from behind and just as she got the top half of her dress loose she was pushed face down on her bed.

Her face narrowly missing the bedpost and when the larger man dropped down on top of her she let out the loudest bloodcurdling scream she could. It was cut short when his large meaty, smelly hand covered her mouth. His thumb was going for her nose, to try and cut off air supply but before he could Sansa bit into whatever bit of flesh she could, while all the while kicking at him with both her legs to try and dislodge him.

The man was heavy and she reckoned his was on the obese side, making getting him off her harder. When she could taste blood in her mouth, he let out a scream as he moved his hand away.

Sansa spat out the chunk of flesh and as much blood as she could, to stop herself from throwing up. The foul metallic aftertaste wouldn't leave her tongue and it made her dry heave.

The ghastly man used his bloody hand, mostly his arm to lock Sansa in place as he reached back with his other hand.

Fear of a different kind settled in the pit of Sansa's stomach, fearing the worst was about to come and pushed up and back with all her might, knocking them both over to their side. The man lost his equilibrium, tumbling from the bed and grasped a hold of anything he could reach, which just so happened to be Sansa's shoulder and some of her hair, causing the both of them to tumble to the floor.

Sansa landed heavily on her back, knocking the air from her lungs but quickly got up on her knees and slapped the man beside her in the face as hard as she could. The blow seemed to have barely any affect and saw he was bringing a dagger up to her face. She grasped his wrists to try and stop his momentum, she wasn't very strong and cried when the dagger drew nearer towards her chest.

She heard the main chamber door get smashed in, her scream must have alerted Lothor and even though she wanted to let go of the man's wrists, knowing Lothor would deal with him, she didn't when the tip of the blade cut into her chest. It barely nicked her when Lothor kicked the man in the side of the head, making him lose his hold on the weapon allowing Sansa to finally move away.

Ilfred and Royce came running in after moments later, Ilfred rushed to Sansa's side inspecting her hands while Royce helped Lothor to drag out the would-be assassin.

 

 

Days after the incident, Lothor returned to visit Sansa, finding her packing her things into a trunk. "My Lady?"   

"Yes?" Sansa saw him looking her continued packing and she chuckled, "Oh, it's nothing too concerning. Just some extra things I found for the children to keep warm." 

"We finally got him to talk."

Sansa knew what Lothor was referring to, the man who had tried killing her in her chambers. The same man, he and Lord Royce had locked away, she didn't want to know where and she didn't want to know the mans name. There was only one thing she wanted to know and it seemed as if Lothor had done his job in finding it out.

"He was a Targaryen loyalist, working for Lord Varys." He went on to explain, "They found out about your plan to make the North independent."

"How? I only told a few people of that." Sansa was confused, she had only brought it up with her family, and Brienne and she knew none of them would ever betray her like this. 

"Varys' spies, he had set them up at Winterfell as soon as he found out he was to travel there with his queen."

Sansa was pleased with the news, having never doubted her family. When Lothor tried to go on to explain what he and Royce had planned for the man, she held up her hand to stop him. She knew they were going to have him killed and trusted them to it but didn't wish to know how or when.

"One last thing my Lady," Lothor sounded odd and when he stepped forward with his hand outstretched, she knew why. "For you."

He had a small dagger for her, and she gratefully accepted it, appreciating the gift for what it was.

 

 

The lock clicked into place and Sansa breathed a sigh of relief once she had solitude in her private chamber, it wasn't the same room she had growing up, but anywhere within the walls of Winterfell brought her some peace.

The strains of the day finally caught up to her, Tycho grew evermore tiresome and what he was representing was even more worrisome, she was mostly worried she was going to lose her home and who was to stop them at this point.

With little in the way of money or supplies all that was left was a massive pile of rubble and lots of bodies courtesy of the others, and with the debt the crown owed the Iron Bank and with no one sitting on the throne there was no one to collect from, except those still living and hoping to rebuild what was lost.

 

She missed her family, having buried Jon and Bran by their parents only a few days ago and still with no word from Arya, Sansa felt helpless and alone.

She felt lonely more than anything, as she moved away from the door and with the light from the fire in the heath already spitting, as it was her only source of light in her room. She poured herself a generous cup of wine before sitting on the only place to sit, her bed and took a healthy sip as she pondered on recent events and tried not to wallow in her own despair.

 

“May I join you?”

 

Sansa jumped to her feet at his familiar raspy voice.

“How…?” She wasn't as alone as she had presumed, her voice trailed off as her heartrate increased with her initial panic.

Sansa couldn't seem to find her voice again as if it died in her throat as Petyr stepped out of the shadows and walked closer to the fire to warm himself, his hands reaching for any warmth he could find.

“I sometimes forget how cold it gets here, even in Spring.”

Sansa was still frozen to the spot but she held her hands to her own throat, her cup of wine left broken and forgotten by her feet, the wine had spilt and stained the rug as Petyr turned to look at her fully.

"Have you…?“

“I don’t seek vengeance,” Petyr answered her unfinished question.

“Then why are you here?” Sansa found her voice again and asked, to which Petyr gave her a knowing smile.

“You’re the real representative.” She pointed out.

“Sort of.”

 

Petyr came closer and with each step that brought him nearer Sansa could see where his coat rested just along his neck, held closed by his trusty pin and saw no scar, no mark of any kind to say he had been cut or sliced open.

He stopped right in front of her leaving her barely any room to escape him, she could feel every breath he took, he had never cared about personal boundaries with her in all the years she had known him and it seemed as if that still hadn't changed.

 

"What does that mean my Lord? You either are or you aren't."

His mouth quirked in his usual way whenever he found what she said amusing and didn't reply to her verbally.

“You’ll help us.” It wasn’t voiced as a question.

“I will,” Petyr replied anyway.

“In return for what?” Sansa asked and felt Petyr take in a lock of her hair, just like old times.

“You.”

"Lord Baelish..." Her voice trailed off, to say she was shocked was an understatement. Even though somewhere deep down it felt inevitable.

 

The two of them here at the end of everything, side by side, reunited again after everything. With no more battles or war, it almost felt like with all the preparations for the fight, no one planned for what would come afterwards but the proof of how wrong that thought was, was standing before her in the flesh. 

It almost made her want to laugh at the absurdity of it, it didn't seem real. This whole situation all felt like some strange dream but when he touched her hair, the reality, the truth of Petyr being real and not some twisted illusion vanished. 

Feelings of relief, joy and melancholy washed over her before pain, grief and horror of the truth of this man being here settled within her.    

 

Forgetting about the wine still staining the floor, Sansa bravely came even closer as her arms came up and even though Petyr didn't move away he looked at her cautiously as they slowly wrapped around his neck like she was about to bring him in close for a hug.

Her arms closed in, her face inching closer to his so they were almost cheek to cheek and she tried not to make it obvious as she reached into the left sleeve of her dress and pulled out her dagger she always kept strapped to her wrist since Brune gave it to her when she was still at Harrenhal, to bring it down against his jugular.

 

The moment the cold blade pressed against Petyr's flesh he brought his arms up around Sansa's waist, drawing her into his chest quickly and tightly. His embrace was tight, so much so that Sansa couldn't move away even if she had wanted to.

"Do it my love," Petyr breathed against her lips, his free hand stroking and skimming her back, his thumb was practically petting along her spine and it was only then Sansa became aware of his own dagger pressing against her back nestled closely against one of her kidneys.

One wrong move from either of them could bring about a fatal nick of their blades, and it was lights out. They swayed slightly almost like they were about to waltz, it felt like Petyr was encouraging her to make the first strike.

 

"Let us die together, in each others arms." His eyes burned brighter with dark twisted desire the longer she looked at him indecisively, their lips barely caressed as they both breathed in and out deeply.

Sansa felt like her insides were a molten lava ready to explode at any second, she couldn't remember a time she had ever felt this way and small part of her felt disgusted that Littlefinger had been the one to ignite her core, her whole body, and her feelings like he was.

She wasn't alone and felt the evidence of his ever growing arousal press against her hip but for the first time in a long time she didn't feel so lonely and hated it was vanishing with Petyr resurfacing. It was like he was reaching every part of her, she loved and hated it.  

 

 

Both their blades were exceedingly sharp and with one deep breath Sansa tried to hold in so she wouldn't melt into him saw the tiniest trickle of blood drip down leaving a thin red line down Petyr's neck only for its path to stop in the fur of his collar.

She gulped nervously, not knowing how Petyr would react to his blood trickling and felt his hold on her tighten even more.

Petyr's fingers dug deeper into her hip bringing her in direct contact with his whole person, causing a slight squeak from her lips from the unexpected move while the dagger at her back sliced through the first layer of fabric of her dress with the greatest of ease.

Petyr didn't miss the sound that had escaped her and when their eyes connected again his eyes looked even darker, if that was possible.

When his head tilted slightly almost like he was about to lean in for a kiss that's when Sansa drew in a shaky breath to speak, "Don't call me that, you don't love me."

"Don't I?"

Every word he spoke he practically breathed against her lips, feeling each word he spoke more and more, feeling his lips brush against hers with every word. "I give you your lands, your home back to you and all I ask in return is for your hand."

"You should be _dead_ ," Sansa quickly changed the subject.

"Yet here I stand," Petyr replied and allowed for her to direct their conversation.

"You should be hung for your crimes." Her eyes blazed for a different reason, this time in anger.

"And what crimes are those?"

"You know of what I speak, Littlefinger. My brother, my aunt and my father." With every accusation she held the dagger just that little bit tighter and when _father_ passed her lips the first of her tears fell.

Everything she had held onto, all the hurt, the fear, her worry and dare she say lust and even now her anger brought forth tears.

Crying in the arms of the man she had executed, shivering for some reason and getting comforted by him even as they still threatened each other with death.

 

"And what of yours?" He was willing to play her game and still refused to relinquish his hold of her, he was still caressing her. His hand, fingers moving up and down her back from waist to shoulder.

With all the pent-up emotions now coming out of her at once, she looked even more beautiful than the last time he lay eyes on her.

"My... ? How dare --"

"You continue to condemn me for the fate of your father, what about yourself?"

"I was a child."

"Yes, and I was just one man."

"So what would you call this?" Sansa asked, indicating the blade still digging into her.

"Caution," Petyr replied and moved his neck into her dagger as he made sure they had direct eye contact, "And what of yours?"

"Justice."

"Don't you mean vengeance, my love." Petyr waited patiently for Sansa's next move, she was breathing heavily from anger and was trying to regain her composure by breathing deeper and slower. Her tears had long since stopped but some still shone on her cheeks.

 

She knew they would get nowhere like this, they could speak in circles trying to prove their own points all night. A part of Sansa wondered if that was part of his intention because it couldn't be just to bed her or marry her like he was claiming.

 

They must have been standing like this is for a long time and she wondered what was keeping Ser Brune, he never would've left her alone for so long like this if she was being threatened. Plus more than once she had raised her voice, which would have indicated she wasn't alone.

She must have voiced one of her thoughts aloud unconsciously because Petyr was looking at her amused.

 

With his growing know-it-all smile dread pooled in the pit of her stomach as realisation dawned on her, Ser Brune was never hers but Petyr's inside man, "Leave."

 

Sansa felt cold and didn't respond when Petyr's hold on her slackened somewhat. The way he had been studying her all night, Petyr noticed immediately the moment Sansa closed herself off, cutting off her emotions.

"Take _your_ man with you and please just leave."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but Petyr heard everything she said.

He sheathed his dagger, letting it rest by his hip again and did it as slowly as he could.

Every move he made, he did so slowly and carefully as to not spook Sansa, he took a hold of her hands easing them from around his neck and cradling her hands in his own resting them between them.

It was an useless gesture, nothing he did now would have any affect but that didn't stop him from trying anyway. Both his thumbs caressed her knuckles feeling her soft skin and tried one last thing.

He brought her hand up, the one that still had a tight hold on the dagger and placed a delicate kiss to her hand before departing from her room and closing the heavy door with a silent click.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

The night that Euron and the Iron Fleet attacked Yara and Theon on open water was a trigger-inducing trauma that Theon fought within himself to overcome, it wasn't just his sisters faith in him he would betray but also himself if he couldn't find his inner strength again in order to help.

He knew everyone was expecting him to fail, he was even expecting himself to fail but if he did then all the Ramsay's of world would always win.

 

As the first lot of canon fire started Theon did in fact try to put up a brave front, standing beside Yara as she gave out orders to their men. He almost froze when the first ship smashed into the side of theirs and piles of men charging towards them ready to kill them had Theon shivering in fright but he raised his weapon anyway, along with his sister and used it to protect her back as best he could.

 

It wasn't long before their uncle couldn't help but show himself running towards them with a crazed look and even more deranged smile, slicing through people like they were butter and loving the feel of showering in their warm blood.

 

Theon was ashamed when he cowardly ducked behind a barrel that smelt strongly of peoples sick but it wasn't any worse than the smells he was used to in the Bolton kennels and watched over the rim of the barrel in horror as Yara was failing to defeat their uncle.

As he slowly rose on silent feet, Theon almost thought he had the element of surprise as he tried sneaking up behind Euron. His uncle turned when he saw Yara's attention momentarily divert to her brother, giving away his position behind them. Euron was about to turn and strike Theon when Nymeria struck Euron first, giving Theon just enough time to grab Yara's wrist and forced them both to run towards the edge of the deck and with a pleading look to her they both jumped into the dark depths of the water together.

 

 

When Theon resurfaced his first thought was to find his sister, "Yara! Yara!" He stopped shouting when his voice turned horse and swam for sometime in no real direction, he just hoping to find her.

The first body he saw floating in the water, he used it to keep himself afloat and turned the head to see a stranger staring back and cried out when something brushed up against him only to feel relief when he saw Yara.

 

Together they swam a great distance, moving away from the ships that were on fire and moving from bodies that looked like they had been dumped there.

After a particularly terrible explosion that felt far too close to them for comfort they looked to see the unsullied fleet they were meant to be meeting up with, had in fact met up with them and had come to their aid.

 

 

During the months they were at sea winter had clearly set in they were docked at the Riverlands, Theon felt safer on the ship and when it was docked he stayed aboard.

Unlike Yara who left when they found out that the Sand Snakes and the unsullied had taken Euron hostage. He knew what his uncles fate was to be but stayed and spent most of spare time writing to Sansa instead.

Pages upon pages of letters.

Most of them were written with no real intention of sending, it was more a therapeutic exercise for himself, with the intent of getting whatever was bothering him off his chest and with the occasional letter thrown in that were sent. Most of which were plans and information worthy of passing on, and a way of letting her know he was still alive but with all the ravens sent he never received any back and he hoped Sansa was safe wherever she was.

 

 

The day they docked at King's landing to join the rest of the unsullied army along with the Tully army was the day Theon found out the old childhood stories about the others was true, it was frightening and one of the worst things he ever saw.

The battle felt more like a massacre as the undead swept across the living like they were nothing, they didn't have fatigue or any other human frailty to deal with.

King's landing didn't look like a prosperous lively city anymore it looked like a hollowed out wasteland of rising corpses.

 

 

The night the city ignited into the green flames of wildfire, Theon was at Blackwater bay trying to keep the others from finding their ships their only means of escape.

He was tiring, injured and limping, ignoring the pain shooting from his upper right thigh were he could still feel blood oozing and soaking his pants but he fought on even unto the moment when he saw a large number of people heading for them being lead by Tyrion Lannister.

Some of the people weren't prepared to fight and were taken by the others but everyone, Theon included rushed to their aid to safely get them all onto the ships.

As he along with countless others watched the city burn, he hoped Yara had also made it out.

 

 

Sansa rose earlier than usual but to be truthful she barely slept a wink and by the time Ilfred came in early in the morning to help and check on her, Sansa was wide awake and was found standing by her open window looking out of it and with barely her night dress covering her and her skin frozen to the touch.

Like a worried mother, Ilfred rushed about preparing a hot bath for Sansa to wash and warm herself up, closing all the windows and reigniting the fire in the heath.

After Sansa had finished washing in the tub, a rarity nowadays, and was dressed in one of her more warmer dresses with her furred collar that was set out for her and for all concerns after her health to stop, she accompanied Ilfred down for breakfast.

 

 

As they entered the dining hall Brienne, who had been seating and speaking with Lyanna Mormont, gave her a look of surprise to see she wasn't joined by Brune as was usual since Harrenhal and almost rose from her own seat to join her side but with a wave from Sansa's hand stayed her.

 

Many people had already gathered around to eat but when Tycho entered with Lord Baelish and Ser Brune, it was to the shock of everyone but none looked more shocked than that of Brienne who also looked like she was ready to murder which caused Sansa to almost show the first bout of emotion upon her face that day.

 

The corner of her mouth twitched as if to rise in a half smile but she stopped herself when she saw Lord Baelish's eyes were already on her. He was probably looking for an in, which she wasn't so easily going to give him.

Sansa could understand the shock and wanting to murder them, she had come so close to doing it herself the night before but for the life of her she couldn't go through with it, putting an end to him permanently. She had already been abandoned by so many people she cared about, an inevitable outcome from war but over the years every loss she suffered didn't get any easier and death was just so ... permanent.

 

"Lovely morning my Lady, you mind if we join you?" Petyr was all politeness and smiles, his question didn't sound like a question to Sansa's ears more like a formality for anyone listening in as the men took seats nearer to her.

She greeted them and accepted their offer and took some pleasure from Lord Baelish's miffed expression from her monotone voice and face, "Please do Lord Baelish, I welcome the company."

Tycho was the first to sit not caring one second for what was going on or the tension between the two of them and helped himself to the food spread out around them and Sansa saw a look from Brune she had no wish to interpret anytime soon as Petyr sat himself right beside her.

 

The meal was spent mostly in silence with the occasional attempt from Petyr to garner her in conversation but was met with failure every time, it also didn't pass his notice that Sansa ate less than him which didn't bode well with him either.

 

Over the last coming week Tycho remained in Winterfell Sansa's behaviour hadn't changed since that first morning breakfast, not even when she was in the presence of Ilfred or Brienne in the privacy of her personal chambers.

She attended every meal, spoke to anyone seeking her council and joined Nestoris and Baelish for every one of their private meetings but nothing seemed to faze her anymore. It was like she was a hollowed out shell, going through the motions.

She kept an outward exterior of politeness even when Lothor sought her out to explain himself somewhat, it wasn't said as an apology but Sansa accepted it as one regardless.

 

Surprisingly Lord Baelish hadn't sort out any private meetings with her or cornered her for a one on one but kept an eye on her whenever they were in close quarters. During every meeting Sansa listened attentively to every detail and thanked each man for their time and help on their last day together.

 

 

It was a familiar feeling almost like déjà vu as she stood on the grounds with Brienne and Lyanna, the only thing different was the presence of the men standing with them as they all saw Tycho off, who was finally leaving and going to make his way south.

"Thank you for your kind hospitality, Lady Stark and Lord Baelish and my apologises again for not being able to attend your ceremony," That was the kindest Tycho had been towards her throughout his entire stay and Sansa felt the confused looks from the women behind her burning into her back. Knowing they were going to ask her what he meant and if there was any truth to what he said.

There was, and during the week of their discussions her and Lord Baelish's upcoming nuptials was a top topic during some of it, as plans were in motion for that to go ahead.

 

The first time it was brought up in discussion between the two of them, Petyr had waited for Tycho to leave the room before asking Sansa in a rare moment of privacy if marriage was what she really wanted and only getting "Yes, more than anything" from her in the same dry tone as always before she departed from the room.

 

"My Lady and I completely understand and safe travels my friend," Petyr spoke for the both of them and as the carriage departed before them he drew up his hand, an offer to escort Sansa back inside.

With no outward expression to let him know if it was welcomed or not, Sansa accepted his offer by placing her gloved hand in his and walked along side him.

"My Lady, thank you for this opportunity to allow us to speak," Petyr was being so formal but was taking his cues from her and took in when he looked to see how far they were from everyone else, if they weren't in earshot she was sure he would not have addressed her the way in which he had.

"You're most welcomed Lord Baelish," Sansa said in her monotone voice again.

"Any preference to when and where our ceremony is to take place?" He asked, trying to get any kind of reaction out of her.

"I am absolutely sure everything you've arranged will be ample enough."

"Only ample?" He enquired further, pushing.

"More so." She added, "Only the best for us dear husband, am I right?"

 

They stopped momentarily as they entered through the dining hall and Petyr took the opportunity to look at her eyes but she was quick to avert hers using the excuse of looking down at her feet making herself seem as if she was looking not to trip on her skirts as she entered before him.

"Sansa?"

Her eyes blazed with fury briefly as he came up beside her again but she hid it well before she looked back up at him. "Yes my Lord?"

His mouth opened to speak but never had a chance to voice it when Brienne and Lyanna spoke of their wish to speak with her, almost bodily dragging her away but it was welcomed none the less.

 

 

"Ceremony?"

"What kind of ceremony?"

They both were on Sansa the moment the door was shut and locked behind them.

"Lord Baelish has asked for my hand, and I've graciously accepted his most kind offer," Sansa voice still gave nothing away even to them.

"What does that mean? Lady Sansa I really think--"

"What do you mean 'kind' offer?" Lyanna asked.

"Lord Baelish was kind enough to pay off the North's debts for us, he has even offered to help with repairs." Sansa answered.

"Lady Sansa, you're not seriously going to go through with this are you? After what he did!" Brienne was outraged on her behalf and still angered over their last private conversation when the question of how he was even alive inevitably came up.

Sansa herself had no idea and had not even gone to the man himself to ask how. She was more than curious and wanted to know everything but couldn't bring herself to do it just yet.

"Of course I am," Sansa looked at them both to show how serious she was, "I... We are never going to get a better offer and this way we get to keep our homes."

"That's blackmail, surely--"

"All marriages are in some form or another."

 

Brienne saw how Sansa cut off Lyanna and felt even more concerned when Sansa still showed no outward sign of caring. "I could do worse."

Brienne felt at a loss but refused to give up even if Sansa had, "Say the word my Lady and I'll put a stop to this." _Him_ , she meant and Sansa refused to ever give voice to that order.

There was a time before where Sansa would not have hesitated to have him executed but that now felt like a lifetime ago. "There really is no need."

"How can you just stand there and let this happen?!" Brienne's voice rose higher, she couldn't believe Sansa's nonchalance.

"Because it already has. If anyone stops this we lose the North, we lose everything. So please don't hurt him." Sansa pleaded with Brienne and held her hands as she did so, that was the closest Sansa had come to showing any outward emotion in the past few weeks. Her voice didn't change but it was the hands grasping Brienne's tightly and something strange in her eyes she couldn't decipher that got through somewhat.

"This isn't right, I--" Brienne didn't know what else to say and sighed in defeat and gave a slight nod of acceptance.

 

 

The following morning when Sansa received a letter, at first she thought it was a response to her ravens. The day after Tycho left, heading south Sansa sent a couple of ravens to inform Edmure and Tyrion to expect him but she instantly recognised the sigil sealed in the wax and was quick to open it to read Theon's words.

It filled her with the same joy like the last time she had heard from him, it had been way too long which was in the early days of winter and during the war and it was wonderful to know he was safe and happier.

Sansa had been in recovery from her sickness which she later learned it was from the poison Lord Varys was continuously supplying her with. The letter had arrived before they had arrived at Harrenhal and had been there waiting for her, at the time it confused her but now it was obvious that Petyr had something to do with it.

Everything that had happened at Harrenhal made more sense but what she wanted to know was how he knew Sansa was going to be there it wasn't something that had been planned at first. It wasn't until she was at Riverrun did it seem like the most logical choice.

Unless he had always had people watching her, that was the only thing that made sense. It was also why everyone including Brune himself were so loyal to her and not anyone who followed Daenerys.

Speaking of Daenerys, Theon brought news of her newfound friendship with Yara and himself which wasn't unwelcomed news it was great to hear that Theon was living again and not shutting people out.

What gave her pause was Daenerys was spending a lot of time in Dorne and had made new _friends_ with their prince. Sansa could read between the lines even if Theon couldn't, and wondered what she was up to forming alliances with Iron Islands and Dorne.

 

 

With a lot of hesitance Sansa opened his chamber door, stepping inside to see Petyr seated at a small table that must have been brought in by Brune or someone else working for him with two cups of wine there waiting atop it, like he had been expecting her. "Welcome my love, please sit." He said with a ringed hand pointing at the empty seat opposite his.

Sansa made sure not to show how his words got to her and closed the door before taking a seat.

"I have to admit, you've gotten me curious as to your visit," Petyr looked pleased to see her but he always seemed to look that way nowadays.

She couldn't bring herself to show him the letter and explained what she had learned without giving away anything personal about her friendship with Theon, and throughout it all Petyr had a look of deep contemplation.

"Tell me I'm not the only who sees it," It was the first time in a long while Petyr heard emotion in her voice, there was a part of Sansa that was scared. If not for herself then for Winterfell and the North.

"It does sound an awful lot like she's trying again to take back the seven kingdoms," He replied.

"So I'm not crazy."

His hand had been reaching across the table top making its way slowly while she spoke and slid his fingers under her own, bringing them up so he could give her knuckles another kiss, "Crazy is the last word I'd use to describe you."

 

The touch of Petyr's lips against her skin, the fine hairs on his chin tickling her.

Her emotions were so conflicted and all over the place concerning Lord Baelish, there was a time when she mourned his loss in private away from her family's prying eyes, than as time went on it was like she followed everyone else's example and put him out of mind out of sight and hated Littlefinger along with them until she almost believed it herself but seeing him again... Holding him and being held by him...

As she had spent the first night he was back looking out her window over the remains of her home, Sansa came to grips with the fact she had missed Petyr. It was what she had been struggling within herself since the moment he came crashing back into her life and she was still heavily was conflicted about it.

Sansa was quick to withdraw her hand, placing it in her lap away from his prying eyes and grabby hands. "How can I trust you!" It was meant to be a question and ended sounding like an accusation.

"For the very reason you came _only to_ _me_ about this," Petyr had an air of smugness about him and was the first to take his cup of wine and took a drink, while he kept watch of her.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos always welcomed.


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